The hardest part of grief is that it never goes away. With time, it might become less acute, but then something happens to remind you of the person lost - a joke, a song, a scent - and the pain comes crashing down upon you as intensely as when they first died.
The following is a poem composed by Jane Austen in honor of Mrs. Lefroy, a dear friend and mistress of nearby Ashe Rectory, who died on
Published on January 25, 2014 05:04